


My New Human Pet

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:17:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4514655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Saw this and need it done: Prompt: teenager number gets a painfully obvious crush on Root. Root is surprisingly tactful about it. Even if everyone tease her about it. And tease Shaw that she should be careful or she'll lose her (not-)gf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My New Human Pet

She sits in the back corner of the New York Public Library, eyes darting up every twenty-seven seconds exactly, although her fingers never stop moving. Her breath is held to the very last second, until it comes out in a rush and is brought in just the same.

Her eyes dart up, taking in her surroundings in less than a second. The thirteen pedestrians typing on computers at stations, four teens playing video games on laptops at large, rectangular desks, and six people- including the librarian- glued to their phones. All on the same public wifi. Making her nothing more than a ghost.

The smallest quirk of a smile draws up on her lips, although she is far too focused to let any true emotions through. The only thing she feels is adrenaline, and it’s taking over her body with the addictive thrill of cocaine. She continues on with her code, each elegant strand of letters and numbers getting her one step closer to her destination.  _Halfway through in one minute thirty-five seconds_ , she thinks to herself.  _Not bad._

* * *

 

But then, from the bottom corner of her COMPAQ, she receives a warning bubble:

Un-Identified User has logged onto MAX’s PC

A prickle of annoyance surges within Max at seeing the insurance she’d put in place finally in appliance. By the time she’s finished reading the short text, an intestinal parasite of a hack lodges itself into the center of her laptop, and her brow knits in tight fury.

“Not a chance in  _Hell_ ,” she mutters to herself, forgetting of her old task entirely for this new one. “No one enters  _my_  house without asking.”

She’d always liked this spot of the library. Secluded from everyone else, silent words swallowed up in the sound of the radiator, and a security camera dead zone. Each of the places she went to held at least one spot like this, but the New York City Public Library had always been her favorite spot. That’s why she chose it for today, after all.

“You’re costing me  _big_  time,” she fumes, fingers smacking down angrily on the keys as she chases the intruder like a cat to a mouse. Today was important; it was her biggest job yet, and held- by far- the largest score. A million spread throughout five different bank accounts, all falsely under different but most popular names, by sundown if she could slink her way into the ISA, undetected, and give her employers full access to the system.  _No biggie._

She hadn’t even broken a sweat when this new player- _this pesky little gnat_ \- broke their way through her security measures, setting up an ugly shop in her hard drive.  _Or, trying to, at least._

It’s a game of Builders and Bulldozers as she reconstructs what the intruder tears down, alongside setting up sharp little traps to snag them. On and on, for five minutes straight, she ran through every trick she knew- combining some together- to make land mines for every place left to step. But still, this other player is a fox with technology, skimming the edges without so much as a knick.

 _They’re good_ , she thinks to herself, blood pressure rising as the epinephrin swells in her veins. The longest anyone had ever lasted in the arena with her was thirty seconds. Thirty seconds to unreclaimable toast.

But then, just as the burst of a thought finishes, one of the mines explode, leading her right to the spot. A few swift keystrokes later, and the game has ended.

“Not good  _enough_ , though,” she says to herself, satisfied smile on her face as her muscles relax, back easing down on the beige wall once more.

“I could’ve done  _much_  worse if I wasn’t on a cellphone,” a silky smooth voice reaches her from only a few feet away, and her eyes snap up.

At once she is greeted by the sight of a fairly tall woman, dressed in black jeans and a black leather jacket, holding a simple smartphone out easily in one- you guessed it- black manicured hand. Her slender shoulders and face are surrounded by dark brown hair that falls in swirling tendrils, and glows with hints of bronze under the fluorescent lights. There is a clever smirk on her lips and an all-knowing glint in her dangerous brown eyes.

“Woah,” Max breathes out, scrambling to her feet. She herself is a lanky figure, meeting the woman’s height- she in inch heels and herself in black converse. Max pulls a dark hoodie closer to her body, taking this mystery woman in with awed hazel eyes.

Upon seeing Max’s expression, the woman’s smirk is replaced by a smile that could rival the sun, and she gives Max a wink before shoving her cell back in her pocket.

Max can feel her heart explode. Then, as realization dawns, Max’s jaw snaps shut, and her old character replaces her momentary stupefaction.

“For a minute there, I was  _pretty_  pissed that someone was tryna get my stuff,” Max says, conversational voice met with the smallest of smirks as she gives the woman a look over. “But… considering it’s someone as- as  _yourself_ , I think I can make an exception.” The woman gives a short burst of a chuckle, and Max internally gives herself a high five for the line.

“Root,” the woman says, sticking out a hand. After staring at it a second- thinking it too good to be true- Max quickly pushes her hand forward, shaking it.

“Max.”

Max lets her hand linger there as long as possible, then shoves both into her back pockets, trying to look casual, all the while filled with butterflies.

“You  _know_ ,” she says, thinking of something more to say. “If you want in on my hard drive, all  _you_  have to do is  _ask_.” She pulls what she hopes is a suggestive countenance at Root, but Root responds with nothing more than lips pressed together with amusement.

“I actually don’t need your hard drive,” Root responds, matching Max’s tone with a dashing one of her own, and Max feels herself being shot dead with each syllable. “I just needed your location.” Max laughs in spite of herself, overwhelmed with this being to the point of giddiness.

“Don’t say  _that_ ,” Max warns her, but all in good nature. “Makes you sound kinda…  _desperate_.” That gets an eyebrow raise from Root, and Max’s heart jumps up, sitting on her tongue like a lead weight. However, she swallows it down, entire body feeling like a leaf in hurricane season as she presses on. “But…” she trails off, looking Root dead in the eye. “I don’t mind.”

“Can I  _shoot_  her now?” An annoyed voice says from somewhere behind Root, and her head turns. Max watches the way her hair ripples across her shoulder, and feels a shudder run through her involuntarily.

From behind the nearest bookshelf, a small woman of about five three steps out, dark eyes black in irritation and matching hair swept into a ponytail. She wears a black tank top and matching cargo pants; still, Max can’t fathom that a woman so slender can be packing. _In a library of all places._

She doesn’t speculate on it long, though, as her eyes gravitate back to Root. To her dismay, Root’s gaze is set on this other woman, eyes spilling with affection.

“Now,  _Sweetie_ ,” Root murmurs over her shoulder in playful condescendence. “We have to give her a  _chance_  first.”

“Woah, woah-  _wait_ ,” Max interrupts in disbelief as Root’s eyes come back to her. She feels the queazy swirl of sadness in her stomach. “You guys are  _together_?”

“No,” the smaller woman spits at once, cross gaze directed heatedly at Max. Max smiles, the butterflies returning.

“Oh, okay.” Something in her tone must tip the woman off, for a wolf-like snarl draws up on her lips, eyes narrowing with fatal intensions.

“Grab your computer,” she barks, shoulders tense and hair bristling. “We’re leaving.” Max gives her a skeptical look.

“Why? So you can  _kill_  me with no witnesses?” She asks in accusation. The woman’s sneer melts into a cocky smirk.

“Now that you  _mention_  it-”

“ _No_ ,” Root intervenes, sending a warning glare the woman’s way before directing much kinder eyes on Max. “Shaw and I are here to keep you  _safe_.” She emphasizes the last word, making it clear to not only Max but also her partner.

“Safe from what?”

Root gives her head a little tip to the side, eyes glowing. “We haven’t figured that out yet.” With that, she brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, beginning to back away from the corner. “You coming?” She asks Max, a smile like honey in her voice. Max grins, cheeks flushing with pink as she jams her laptop into her backpack before slinging it over her shoulders.

“With you?” Max says, “I’d go  _anywhere_.”

_______\ If Your Number’s Up /_______

Harold Finch sits at his computer desk, chair facing the side as he stares with an otherwise cold expression at the girl before him. In another chair, facing him, the teen stares intently back.

“I’ll ask you  _again_ ,” he says to her, voice calm but crackling with underlying impatience. “Your name.”

“That didn’t  _sound_  like a question,” she retorts, eyes glowing in humor. He narrows his own. _If we could just get kids on the servers_ , he thinks with longing. Just like any other database of the government, getting the names of those under eighteen was slightly more difficult for the Machine. Feeding off of information not only in government files but also just listening in, She could usually find a way around the ordeal after a little time. However, this girl hadn’t been truly on the radar since before the Machine was launched, making her a mystery.

“ _What_  is your name?” Harold asks sourly, and a wicked grin lights up her pale face.

“I don’t  _have_  a  _name_.” He sighs, getting no where with her for the past twenty minutes. Root and Shaw had picked her up after an extensive trace, but both had other matters to attend. Like trying to figure out who hired her, and for what purpose. He decides, with extreme annoyance, that he’ll have to move on.

“What school do you go to?”

“I teach myself stuff,” she replies, leaning back in the chair and folding her arms. “I look on any school’s year curriculum, then I study at my leisure.” His eyes spark oddly in interest, and he sits up slightly.

“Don’t you have friends you’d like to talk to?” He asks, hoping to warm her up to conversation. She gives a small laugh, cruelty in her eyes.

“Talking’s overrated,” she replies dryly, looking around the subway station. As much as it irritated Harold for her to be in their hideout, it was agreed there was no safer place for her. “The only words  _I_  need are the ones in my codes. So, when’s that Root chick gonna be back?” She asks, changing the subject, and Harold pulls a face of distaste.

“If you’d tell me your  _name_ ,” he offers, and she looks him over thoroughly before smirking.

“My hacking alias is Maximum.  _You_  can call me Max.” It is his turn to look the kid over, everything from her dark grey jacket and baggy black jeans, her hand now toying with something at the edge of her pocket that glitters like a knife. His eyes narrow.

“And may I ask why that’s what you chose?” At the question, her focus directs entirely to him, a devilish grin on her face as she sits up.

“Because everything I do?” She responds in a hazardously humored voice. “I take to the  _max_.” Just then, footsteps emerge in the station, and Max’s face turns to the source. Harold, on the other hand, keep his gaze directed on her, studying the attitudinal teen with pixie cut black hair. He notices as her jaw visibly slackens, eyes dilating slightly at the newcomer. Her head follows the same places that the footsteps travel, until her eyes stop at a place just beyond Harold’s right ear. Gears begin to turn behind her hazel stare as the gaping jaw is replaced by a smirk, eyes shifting to dirty thoughts in need of a heavy bath.

“And if I’m lucky,” she remarks offhand, “ _she’ll_  be one of those things.”

At once, Harold is bolt upright in his chair, back stiff and eyes scrutinizing. He gives her a hard look, and her eyes shift momentarily out of focus, brow knitting with internal conversation. Then, her muscles pull, realizing she’s said it aloud, and a blush rushes through her cheeks.

“ _Excuse_  me?” Harold asks, although it comes out as a harsh demand. Focusing back on him, a lazy smile stretches across her face.

“Nuthin,” she responds, eyes humorous and smug. “Say, what can you tell me about Root?” Harold can feel the hair on the back of his neck bristle, and- although he attempts- the mechanic response that comes with his frustration is unable to be squelched.

“That she is an expert hacker and  _killer_.”

“Killer is  _right_ ,” Max quips to herself, gaze slipping past Harold, and only adding to his anger.

“She’s also not available for sixteen year old  _delinquents_ , such as  _yourself_.” The insult barely touches Max as she pushes up from her chair, small smile creeping onto her lips.

“Well, that’s something I’ll just have to find out for myself,” she replies, voice trimmed with euphoria, as if her words are coming straight from a daydream. Harold swivels on his chair, watching her casually saunter up to Root, who greets her with a smile as Shaw sneers, walking off. Harold thinks of the over confident teen, a notorious hacker for hire with a mouth the size of a freight train.

“No wonder someone wants her head on a stick.”

_______\ We’ll Find You /_______

It had been three days. Three days of bliss for Max, three days of amusement for Root, and three days of Hell for Shaw. Against Shaw’s own opinions on the matter, Root continuously asked Max if she’d like to join them, which she never once passed up.

 _‘The easiest way to protect her is to have her with us,’_   _Root had pointed out upon Shaw’s distasteful grumble. It seemed a waste of time to protect the kid to her, for since Shaw’d asked to shoot her at the library, not a single threat had been made on her life._  Still, Root was insistent.

“So where are we going today?” Max asks, squeezing between Root and Shaw, placing her elbows on the center console as they drive. Shaw can feel her muscles coiling tight as she keeps her eyes glued to the road, grip strangling on the steering wheel.

“We’re going to an internet café to let you finish that hack,” Root responds, turning to face Max. Through the rearview mirror, Shaw catches the glowing admiration in Max’s eyes at Root’s close proximity.

“You’re not gonna try and stop me this time?” She asks, and Root smiles.

“We’re going to  _help_  you, instead.” The girl raises her eyebrows at the statement before a snake-like smile slithers onto her features.

“If you want some of the profit…  _fine_ ,” Max tells her, although her voice holds a compromise in its wake. “But, you’ll have to give  _me_  something first.”

“How’s protection from whoever wants you  _dead_?” Shaw growls, and her blood begins to boil as Max laughs.

“Awe, I think you could do better than that. Right, Root?”

 _This kid is asking to get shot,_  Shaw fumes to herself, seeing as she puts on large doe eyes and an innocent smile. They hit a small bump before coming to a stop at the red light, and Shaw takes the time to finally look over. Root’s face is held behind a curtain of her hair, that just fell over her shoulder at the bump; all the while something like a wicked idea surfaces in Max’s eyes. As she shifts her weight, Shaw realizes exactly what it is.

 _C'mon,_  she says to the traffic light impatiently, needing it to change. Now. Her eyes flicker back over, just to see that Root hasn’t moved.  _Either she’s oblivious or enjoying herself,_ Shaw snarls internally, a sneer pulling angrily on her lip.  _C'mon- come on._

Just as Max’s hand begins to wander up, Shaw sees the green arrow of the turning lane snap on. Without a second thought, she punches the gas, a car actually  _in_  the turning lane swerving out of her way as she whips around the corner. She hears a thump from the back, then a second as she turns, and- finally- a groan.

“ _Ow_ ,” the girl slurs out, bringing a hand to the back of her head, eyes murderous and accusing Shaw through the rearview mirror. Shaw peers right back at her without an ounce of emotion; however, the feeling of a smile spreads through her on the inside.

“Traffic picked up,” Shaw responds easily, before directing her eyes back on the road. “Should’ve been wearing a seatbelt.” Max sits up in the seat, rolling her shoulder as her hand leaves her head.

“Psycho  _bitch_ ,” she mutters out silently; it only brings the quirk of a smile to Shaw’s mouth.

The rest of the drive was much easier to swallow. Root went over their speculations and how to find her hit men, met only by a few suggestive innuendos. All of which Root didn’t react to, or smiled at their ridiculousness.

Finally, Shaw parks their black SUV on the side of the street, letting the engine die as she unlocks the doors. She steps out into the street, taking in the hot air, then slips around the front of the car, meeting Root around the other side. Root leans against the door, arms crossed, and looks over at her with a doting smile.

“So what was all that about in the car?” Root asks, casual tone laced with smug humor.

“What do you mean?” Shaw counters cooly, and Root tilts her head in towards Shaw’s.

“The quick turns, the annoyed tone in your voice, your tightness, y-”

“I get it,” Shaw spits out, ears heating up angrily. “I just wanted to get us here as soon as possible.”  _The sooner we get this over with, the sooner she can get out of here,_ she adds to herself.

“Uh- _huh_ ,” Root responds skeptically. “And this doesn’t  _happen_  to do with anything like… jealousy?” Shaw scoffs, turning her head away from Root with a disbelieving eye roll before facing back.

“ _Jealous_?” She asks, incredulously. “Why would  _I_  be  _jealous_?” Root gives her shoulders a shrug that say she knows exactly why, but merely wants to play the game.

“Pets are  _always_  moody when they don’t get as much attention as they used to,” Root responds with a crinkle of her nose, and Shaw can’t decide whether she wants to nail her or ring her neck. However, before she gets to deliberate any further, there is the sound of something hitting the ground heavily, and a crunch. Root whips her head around, walking towards the back of the car, and Shaw is dismayed to feel a disappointment in her gut at Root leaving. She pushes it away as if it’s a pesky fly.

With a sigh, Shaw follows, only to see Max half laying across the sidewalk, staring into her backpack as if it holds her very worst nightmare. Root kneels at her side, helping the girl into a sitting position against the car’s tire.

“What happened?” Root asks, eyes scanning for any sign of bullet holes or knife wounds on the girl. She holds her arm in, however, that does not seem to be what’s causing her such anguish.

“I tripped, what does it  _look_  like,” she spits, then- realizing who’s asking- her eyes turn apologetic. “My laptop is  _toast_.” Root looks up to Shaw with a conversation in her eyes before taking the backpack and reaching in. What she pulls out are two very separate pieces. Just upon seeing the damage in daylight, Max groans.

“Hey, I’ll see what I can do to fix it, okay?” Root assures her, eyes sincere and voice like she is trying to soothe a child. Shaw feels a flicker of annoyance at seeing the way Root treats her.  _What does she find so special about this kid?_ Whatever it was, she was a cross between caring for her and getting her to run any errand Root asked for.  _Key this in, try this code, grab this jacket, take this to Harold…_  the list swirled endlessly in Shaw’s mind, and she could see with each request, Max was gone in a heartbeat to fulfill it.  _Kiss ass._

Shaw had missed some of the conversation while in thought, but found that Root was looking at her expectantly.

“What?”

Root rolls her eyes, but doesn’t respond, merely looking back to Max. She has one hand resting on the bumper of the SUV next to Max’s head, face close and eyes serious. Behind the waves of pain emitting from the teen, Shaw couldn’t help but to see how much she was enjoying this attention.

“Are you hurt?” Max tilts her head to the side, drinking Root in before her intoxicated mind finally registers Root’s question.

“My arm,” she replies, wincing as she lifts it up weakly. With one last look at Max’s eyes, Root peers down, bringing her arm delicately into her hands. The girl gives a small, shit eating grin Shaw’s way, who bristles. “Is there anything you can do for it?” Max asks, doe eyes back on Root.

“Hurt bad?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Shaw’s good with this sort of thing; she can look at it for you.” With that, Root stands, stares at Shaw a moment, then beckons irritably for Shaw to approach. She’s about as disgruntled as Max is as she kneels before her.

“I guess it doesn’t hurt  _that_  bad,” she mutters, and Shaw sneers at her lightly.

“I’m gonna run up the street for some computer parts,” Root calls, voice already distant as she travels away. Shaw barely acknowledges the statement, too busy turning the kid’s arm around somewhat forcefully in her hands.

“Dude, could you  _quit_  that?” Max asks angrily, and Shaw looks up at her with menacing eyes.

“I thought you said it didn’t  _hurt_  that bad,” she counters; Max’s eyes begin to smolder. Shaw thinks of leaving the girl as is- she certainly owes her no favors- but thinks of how Root would react. The last thing she wanted was for her to give Max any more time to gawk, so sets reluctantly to work. “Take off your jacket.”

“How are things going with Root’s little helper?” The voice of John Reese asks in Shaw’s ear, and she rolls her tongue across her teeth in annoyance.

“Sprained wrist and pulled tricep,” Shaw responds.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Root asks through the network line as well, and Shaw gives an annoyed puff of air.

“You ever meet anyone who  _died_  from a pulled  _muscle_?” Shaw retorts, ears turning red from irritation.  _Why does she have to care about_  this  _one so much_. Shaw focuses back in on Max, taking in anything she can.

Her eyes are cold, now that she is no longer around Root, with a sort of closed off outer disposition. She sits in a way that takes up space, every part of her easily dipping into someone else’s personal bubble, as she sulks back with a set jaw. However, at looking further- taking into account the small amount of facts she’d gotten from Harold- she can sense a trickle of fear in her veins, hiding the fact that people are out to kill her fairly well with a mask of antipathy for the world. Shaw puts each puzzle piece together:  _A loner kid with no friends- and apparently no family- who understands computers more than the people around her, while also having a hot mouth._

“What are you  _looking_  at?” The girl asks, voice only slightly hostile. Shaw doesn’t answer, merely diving back into the other conversation.

“-you like having her around,  _don’t_  you?” John asks with a chuckle, undoubtably teasing Root yet again for the little hacker.

“It’s fun,” Root replies- not the answer Shaw was looking forward to. “It’s nice being out on the road and able to talk computers.”

“Oh, I’m sure  _Shaw_  could talk computers too if you gave her a few lessons. Maybe a how-to guide for typing,” John cracks, and Shaw presses her lips together as Root lets out a butterfly-inducing laugh.

“Would you, Sam?” She questions playfully, the sound of a shop bell ringing from the background. “Would you learn computers for me?”

“I’ll do that the day John talks his  _feelings_  out to a  _therapist_ ,” Shaw retorts, much to John’s amusement.

“It’s a deal,” he replies in good nature. “I suggest you start studying now. The NYPD already has me talking to one.” Shaw gives an internal groan, as she’d forgotten all about John’s almost-weekly appointments.

“Who are you talking to?” Max asks, childish curiosity surrounding her as she crosses her feet. “Do you have, like, an ear wig? Can I have on?”

“No,” Shaw replies flatly.

“Better be  _careful_ , Shaw,” Root warns her in a goading tone, mistaking her response to Max for one to John. “If she keeps  _wooing_  me with all her little pick up lines, you might just lose me.” Shaw can hear the sarcasm in her tone and John’s amused snicker, but her blood only boils.

“Just get  _back_  here so we can get this  _over_  with,” Shaw snaps, then hoists the girl to her feet.

______\ My New Human Pet /______

The rest of the day had gone, as Root would put it, a near brush with death. After finally fixing the laptop, they allowed Max to go through her ‘job’ as if it were never interrupted. Only, it seemed as if the employers were unwilling to pay, going so far as to send two men out to attack after the first load of data was transferred over. The first load being nothing more than the things available to all city dwellers eyes, copied in six times to make the illusion of something bigger. They waited. And, sure enough, the pursuers they’d been awaiting for over three days finally made their grand entrance, only to drop within five minutes. The first two were unnoticed. Just two men in business casual attire and dark sunglasses meandering around to find a seat. The next thirty seconds were the most action packed and crucial, for in that short span of time, the first man made his way to the station beside Max’s, drew a well-concealed dagger, and came within an inch of her jugular. The last two and a half were spent taking down the two men, leaving them both in heaps on the floor. The windows to the internet café were tinted, only letting those on the inside see out, and the rest of the place was- conveniently- empty. _I’d put twenty bucks on the security camera being out, as well._

_'That was so hot,’ Max had breathed out in total awe, and Root brought her head over one shoulder, looking the teen over with a kind but scrutinizing eye. From her side, Root knew Shaw’s glare was something else entirely. However, as soon as Max realized what had escaped her, she clamped her agape jaw shut, cheeks blushing vibrantly as she slid off of her stool, backpack in tow and fingers showing a tremble before she jammed them into her pockets._

Now, Max was collecting her things- yes, she’d made herself more than at home- and plopping them into her backpack. Harold watched her all the while, as if he was certain she would break or steal something if he so much as blinked. Root watches from across the subway terminal as Max chatters away to Harold, whose veins begin to bulge further in equal proportion to every time Max smirks.

With her back leaning against the outside metal of the subway cart, Root allows her head to rest against it as well, head rolling towards the bench. There, she finds Shaw cleaning her weapon, and sets to watching, a ghost of a smile playing with her lips as she gets entirely lost in a separate world. One with only herself, Shaw, the bench, and the gun in her hand.

“Hey,  _Babe_ ,” Max’s voice reaches Root’s ears, and she casts her head to the other side, seeing the young delinquent leaning against the subway cart, looking at her with piercing hazel eyes. A coy smirk plays on her lips, but past it, Root can see the nervous flicker in her eyes and microscopic tremble of her fingers. Root smiles knowingly, knowing that she makes the kid nervous and thrilled- especially after the fight.  _She’s gotten milder,_  Root acknowledges.  _Barely._

“ _Max_ ,” Root greets with a warm warning tone. Max smiles, pushing off the subway cart and walking forward. She pulls out her knife, twiddling it between fingers that never seem to stop moving. Like, without a keyboard, they still have to type.

“Hey,  _Root_ ,” Max quips back sarcastically, although something in her eyes holds serious gravity. It goes away momentarily as a smile comes to her, along with a question. “So, what are we doing today?”

“ _We_ ,” Root tells her, giving her a look over, “are doing nothing.  _You_  are going home, and Shaw and I have some business to take care of.” Root looks briefly past Max’s shoulder, and is satisfied to see the glowering stare of Sameen Shaw; eyes lasers piercing the back of Max’s head.

“No farewell dinner? Say, just the two of us?” She asks, hopeful, and Root laughs.

“Not a chance.”

The girl’s shoulders drop, a slight slouch coming to her back and a slant on her lips. “Bummer,” she replies sullenly, before a coy smirk brightens her face. “I  _really_  could have made your day.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Root responds flatly, turning Max at the shoulder and setting her off towards the terminal’s exit. They walk side by side in the dark pathway to the outside world, the only sound coming from the jingling knick-knack attached to Max’s backpack. Root looks over at her, trying to sort her out. In a sense, the girl reminded Root of herself when she was young- minus the outgoing attempts of seduction. _A lonely kid with a computer_. It all boiled down the same. The only difference between them now seemed that Max was already on a more treacherous path, her speed crashing down much faster than Root’s own.

Root’s thoughts wonder to her own life, years in the past of being a killer for hire. Pointing her finger to get someone assassinated, or even holding the weapon of destruction in her hand. Playing judge, jury, and and executioner all in a matter of seconds, and all for a paycheck at the end of the day.  _How much money does it cost to equal someone’s life?_  She asks herself; just as she’d asked herself for years. Sure, she’d put it all behind her after joining the team; however, certain things never leave. Focusing in on Max, Root wants nothing less than an equal fate.

Finally, they touch sunlight, the warmth of the day leaking across Root’s face and fingertips.

“You  _know_ ,” Max says, putting her hands in her front jeans pockets and looking up towards the sun. Her foot taps against the ground, all of her jittering on the edge as she tries to bring a thought to words. “I’ve never met someone who’s as smart as they are pretty.” Root smiles with humor.

“You calling me pretty?” She jokes.

“Very.”

Rolling her eyes, Root slips a piece of paper the size of a business card from her pocket, holding it out to the teen between two fingers. She looks at Root a moment, before slowly taking it and looking it over. In a split second of recognition, her face lights and a smile breaks across her face.

“Call whenever you’re in trouble,” Root tells her, then- at seeing the idea spark in Max’s eye- continues. “And  _only_  when you’re in trouble.” Max widens her eyes like a kid being told what to do for the umpteenth time, then stows it away in her back pocket.

Hands wrap around Root’s back as Max pulls her into a firm hug, and after a minute, Root returns it. However, to her curiosity and disliking, she feels the hands slipping down her back, and she arches one eyebrow. The hands make it to the lower part of her waist, and she opens her mouth to say something. She stops, words just at the tip of her tongue, when she feels a second set of hands against her lower back, these pushing the girl’s all the way back up, and then some. A smile Root tries horribly to conceal peeks out on her face, as she pulls away, turning to see Shaw, red hot with murderous eyes.

Max looks as if she wants to say something, but- with one look at Shaw, starts her way slowly down the street. Root leans against the railing, watching her go with Shaw at her side, folded arm brushing up against her own. Halfway down the block, Max turns, walking with a lazy gate backwards, lopsided grin on her face as she shouts back.

“Root? One thing I forgot to tell you: I’m  _always_  in trouble.” With a wink, she spins on one heel, dashing off until she is swept up in the city’s daytime crowd. Root hears a contemptuous snort from her side, and turns her head to see Shaw peering in the last location of their number.

“And I thought  _you_  could be overt,” Shaw huffs under her breath, much to Root’s amusement.

“ _Me_?” Root asks in a half-joking, half-abashed, tone as she tries to cover up her slight blush. “ _Never_.”

“ _How’s my favorite prisoner?_ ” Shaw mimics in a nasally voice, face set distastefully. “ _I love it when you play doctor; kiss kiss to you too._ ” Shaw rolls her eyes at the last one, head shaking slightly as she stuffs her hands in her pockets. Root, on the other hand, struggles to hold down an exuberant grin.

“Glad to hear you remember those,” Root says, the smug pleasure rumbling from her voice like a content cat’s purr. Shaw stiffens instantly, blood draining slightly from her otherwise stoic face.

“I remember a  _lot_  of things,” she hisses back, a little too defensively. Then, shaking her head free of all fluster, she looks up to Root. “What did you see in her anyway?” Shaw asks, question a blur between rhetoric and awaiting an answer. “She was annoying as  _crap_.”

“I don’t  _know_ ,” Root replies skeptically, looking straight ahead. “It’s kinda  _nice_  getting complimented every once in a while.” She can feel Shaw bristle at her side with that, and she swallows a satisfied grin; the flustered waves radiating from Shaw nearly palpable.

“You’re good with a gun,” Shaw remarks, and Root’s eyes instantly draw up in surprise. She whips her head back to the side, only to find Shaw has already disappeared. For a second, Root stands there, allowing the words to sink in. Then, tilting her head back slightly towards the sun, she smiles to herself at the compliment.


End file.
